


falling (for you)

by vexahlla



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:17:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8288692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexahlla/pseuds/vexahlla
Summary: (See, here’s the thing about their relationship: they are both walking across a tightrope on opposite sides, desperate to reach the middle. Below them is a darkness so vast, twisted by feathers and masks, by branches and thorns, of smoke and gunpowder.See, here's the thing: Vex isn't afraid to fall. She's already been falling for a long time, far before this.See, here's the thing: Percy is and isn't afraid to fall. He's too careful, never wanting to overstep what boundaries have been made.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> i originally posted this on tumblr as a gift for kaity, ari, and chy; i've cleaned up and edited this once again as to fix any mistakes! this is one of my first CR fics, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (written after episode 67: the chase to glintshore, and pre episode 68: cloak and dagger. some things may be off.)

It’s not the reefs that surround Glintshore, or the darkened burnt trees of the jungle behind them, not even the rough terrain that pierces their boots that gives her cause for concern. It’s the way that Percy’s been silent, staring off, hands shaking over an empty page in his sketchbook. She wonders, much like she always does when it comes to Percy, about what he could be thinking of crafting. Vex always wonders, and worries, when it comes to him.

So, much like what Vex has always done, she moves towards him. Not stealthily, she hates startling Percy (even if it’s funny sometimes, most of the time,) and especially now so, so she takes careful steps to not hurt her boots on the jagged pieces of glass and moves towards him.

(Grog and Keyleth had worked with the broken trees and their branches; he had cut the weakest parts, and Keyleth had tied them together with her craft. They’re suitable benches, uncomfortable still, but they get the job done.)

She settles down next to him, not too close but not too far away, within arm's reach is a safe distance to put between them. He allows it, like he always does. His shoulders are shaking when she studies him, and Vex wonders if he’s crying, but the heaviness of his breaths answer her question anyway. Not crying, not yet. She’s never seen Percy cry, but this feeling that surrounds them makes it feel it either way. Part of her is desperate to help him, ready to give him anything he asks for, anything he needs of her, or any of them.

“You alright, darling?” She asks. The endearment is automatic, but the way she says it to him is not. It’s a mix between something and almost, feelings that she doesn’t quite understand, wants to understand, but keeps under lock and key anyway. No need to burden him further with her (gnarled, blackened, bleeding) heart of hers.

Percy, like always, takes almost a minute to reply, thinking and analyzing over his response. While his facial expression is unreadable to even her, the way his eyes look over towards her for the briefest of glances, then down to his empty page of the sketchbook, then back towards the sea, that doesn’t escape her. She knows the answer to this question anyway. “I would say yes,” Percy says. “But, since you’ll know whether or not I’m lying, I’ll save us both the trouble: no.”

She places a hand on his shoulder, and watches him wince slightly.

(See, here’s the thing about their relationship: they are both walking across a tightrope on opposite sides, desperate to reach the middle. Below them is a darkness so vast, twisted by feathers and masks, by branches and thorns, of smoke and gunpowder.

See, here’s the thing: Vex is walking across the tightrope with her arms out to her sides like wings. She is not afraid to fall, she is not afraid of the darkness that lurks beneath the both of them. She pushes on despite the hammering fear of her heart, she pushes on despite the voice that mocks her from the darkness, she stays strong. For him. For the both of them. This is a kiss upon the cheek, this is holding hands during the darkest moments, this is a needed conversation in the middle of night.

See, here’s the thing: Percy takes longer to walk across the tightrope, because he is calculating and absolute in every step. His arms are out-stretched to either side, desperate to keep his balance. He is afraid of the darkness, only because of what it has done and what it will do to him. Every step he takes, he spends longer making sure it’s in the correct position, the correct timing, it has to be correct and absolute and there’s no room for mistake when it’s Percy.

(See, here’s the thing: after the Tomb, Percy’s end of the tightrope was hanging on by a single thread, ready to crack and break under the weight of him. The darkness had taken more to his side, ready to swallow him up when he fell. Vex had reached out to him, during that time, had taken his hand and kissed his cheek. She took his apologies and his gifts, and blamed him for nothing. She held his face in her hands and told him “thank you”. His end of the tightrope had strengthened at that, and his steps were more fluid and of instinct. She loved it when he didn’t dance around her.

He had fallen back to the old dance, shortly afterwards anyway. She wonders if he caught her disappointment at that.))

Vex smiles at him. “We will find her,” she promises, “We’ll find Ripley, and we’ll take her down, Percy.”

Percy laughs; it’s breathless, forced, something that isn’t amused in anyway. “I know we will, I’m just afraid of what we’ll find when we do catch up to her.”

“A dead body and a new cloak for you to use?” She nudges his shoulder. She wishes he’d smile.

He does, for the briefest of moments.

“That would be most ideal, wouldn’t it?” He says, shoulders dropping.

“If we’re lucky,” Vex starts.

“Which we rarely are,” Percy interrupts.

Vex shoots him a half-hearted glare and continues. “If we’re lucky, she’ll come out of the water only half-dead, and we’ll finish her off,”

“Only half-dead?”

Vex grins, and mimics Percy. “We’re rarely that lucky,”

Percy’s smile, the joyful attitude that she had gotten him into, falls off just as quickly as it came. He is silent, gaze drawn back to his notebook, fingers tapping against the leather-bound book. Vex reaches over and takes his hand into her own.

Even with gloves, there’s still a certain warmth that holding his hands can bring, and while Vex is not one for precision or perfection, she cannot help but be in silent awe at how perfectly their hands fit together.“You know,” she says quietly to not draw attention towards them. Not like it matters, the others are busy with their own games. Their own people. This is a moment for them alone. “You don’t have to be alright, it’s fine if you aren’t,”

Percy sighs. “Wise words from a wise woman,” he says, “But I wonder if she’ll take her own advice?”

Damn, the voice in her head replies.

“We can’t all be perfect,” she replies with a smile.

Percy falls silent again, and she takes in this moment to study his features. Selfish, she thinks, but his profile is framed by the light of the campfire. Even more so when she spends more time admiring his lips than anything else. It only takes her a full minute to realize she’s been staring this entire time.

“Vex,” Percy says with the quietest voice. “Promise me something, will you?”

“Anything,” replies Vex. Her mouth is moving quicker than her mind. She cannot blame herself for wanting his happiness more than anything.

“You’ll stop me, if I go back.” He turns towards her, the light of the campfire casts his features in an almost haunting way. “If I even begin to go back to… that, even the slightest bit. You’ll stop me, shoot me down if needed,”

“Percy,” Vex whispers, brows furrowed. She wishes he’d stop blaming himself, wishes that he’d allow himself an ounce of peace. (Selfishly, she wishes she could fight all his demons, hold him throughout the terrors of the night, and kiss away the tears and the bruises.)

“Vex, please,” His free hand moves on top of her own that holds his in place. “Promise me that,”

She hesitates, looking into his eyes for something. Deep blue, like the ocean around them, betray no emotion, betray nothing that she’s searching for. Vex wishes that she could find something, anything, beneath the mask that Percy always wears. It takes a long while for her to say the words he wishes to hear, words that she's not sure she can believe, she does not want to lose him, but the look in his eyes has her saying it anyway: “I promise.”

Percy smiles, but she can’t tell if it’s forced or not. He brings her hand to his lips, pressing the lightest kiss upon her knuckles. Even through the gloves, again, there is a spark of something, of almost, of maybe; it’s something that causes her heart to skip a beat, or several, something that even the heat from the campfire cannot compare to the heat that burns across her face and her ears. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [tumblr](http://calebwidogst.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/calebwidodad)
> 
> hope you enjoyed!


End file.
